


Tethers

by FrauKatzen



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Curtain Fic, Family Problems, Getting Together, M/M, Sam is 16, angsty, dean is 20, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-05 20:57:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17926223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrauKatzen/pseuds/FrauKatzen
Summary: Dean ran his hands through Sam’s greasy hair. “You, my friend, need a shower.” But Dean didn’t stop the motion.Sam snorted, twisting around Dean to get more comfortable. This was just something they needed sometimes. Contact with each other to prove they were human and not just mobile trash, untethered to anything but time and its continued march onward. Prove they were tethered to each other.orSam and Dean are introduced to Adam Milligan way earlier than canon. Melodrama ensues. Wincest of the Sam/Dean kind. Sam is 15/16, Dean 20.





	Tethers

How he wound up in the first row of a hockey game in Ohio wearing some ridiculous troll-doll bright blue wig and waving a foam finger with his dad and younger brother, Dean couldn’t say. All he knew was that when their dad wrapped up a hunt near Cincinnati that afternoon then hightailed Dean and Sam up to Columbus, there was a spring in his step and a gleam in his eye. To say that set off a few alarm bells in Dean’s head was an understatement, and judging by the way his brother had caught his eye as they shuffled their duffle bags out to the car, he was wary as well. There had been little conversation on the two hour drive up 71 north, their dad tight lipped.

 

Dean had had to watch Sammy during the last hunt, so he was blind to whether or not there was a link to the last hunt they supposedly just wrapped up. Dean couldn’t think of any other reason his dad had packed them up to go with that weirdly cheery disposition. 

 

“I don’t understand this game!” Sam shouted in his ear as one of the skaters slammed up against the glass in front of them. Dean leaned back over so he could call back into his brother’s ear, one eye on the game, but just then the home team scored and the crowd went wild.

 

Dean finally turned to look at his dorky brother, who had also unfortunately ended up in a Mister-Heatwave-styled blue hairpiece, smirking. “YOU PUT THE BLACK THINGY IN THE NET THINGY,” he shouted at the top of his lungs. The Hey Song was playing loudly as fans around them celebrated.  


“REALLY, ASSFACE?” But Sam was pushing a smile off his cheeks, rosy with cold and excitement. Dean laughed, wrapping his arm without the foam finger around him and giving him a quick squeeze. He felt Sam lean into the embrace, nuzzling slightly at Dean’s fleece jacket. God, this kid. Dean turned his head slightly, getting a whiff of that Sammy-smell at the top of his ear now, just level with his nose, because his brother was growing fast, wasn’t even sixteen, but Dean begrudgingly knew he was going to be passed in height. Soon.

 

He took a moment to glance up over Sam’s ridiculous wig to see his dad squinting seriously across the ice rink. Sam must have felt his gaze shift and also turned his head toward their dad. Dean felt his joy fading fast. Something was wrong.

 

“Dad—” Sam said worriedly.

 

“Boys, let’s go.” John Winchester’s requests rang more like demands. And when he used a tone as deep as that one, Dean couldn’t argue.

 

Apparently, Sam could. “What’s going on, Dad? We’re only twenty minutes in and we’ve never been to a game—”

 

“Don’t argue, boys. We gotta go. That’s an order!” There was an extra edge of harshness to John’s voice, but what made Dean stay extra quiet was that his dad seemed panicked.

 

\---

 

Dad dropped Sam and Dean off at a Red Roof Inn three miles north of the hockey game.

 

“Salt the doors and windows, Sammy. Dean, go pickup you and your brother dinner. I saw a McDonalds behind when we pulled in. Stay safe.” Final commands. Words he didn’t have to say, then pulled away without another word.

 

They watched the Impala drive off until they couldn’t see it anymore.

 

“C’mon,” Dean muttered.

 

Sam huffed moodily, threw himself facedown onto one of the queen-sized beds when they entered their room that looked like so many of the ones they stayed in before. Lingering was the familiar smell of smoke and that old noodle-y scent Dean inhaled anytime he entered a Goodwill.

 

“My name is SAM.” Sam’s declaration was muffled by the pillow in which he was currently suffocating his teenaged angst.

 

“Dad can’t hear ya anymore, Sammy,” Dean said, getting started with the salting without Sam. He bent over and began pouring a line on the door. Dean heard his brother roll over and could feel the glare directed at his back.

 

“That goes for you, too.”

 

Dean rolled his eyes. “I’ll call you whatever I want as long as you keep calling me ‘assface’.”

 

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to call you ‘assface’ if you didn’t act like such an assface.” Dean could already hear Sam’s mood turning around. Could hear his begrudging acceptance that happy things like hockey games are fleeting events they really don’t have time for in their lives. They don’t get things like that. Dean turned his head so Sam could see the side of his smile if he looked.

 

“Why do you think dad took off like that?” Sam asked.

 

Dean shrugged and moved onto the windows. “I don’t know, Sammy? Why does the sun rise in the morning? It’s just what happens.” Really, Dean was worried, too. He didn’t know what freaked his dad out so much that they had to flee the one thing they had done that wasn’t hunting-related as a family in two years.

 

“But obviously he was excited to bring us to that game. I mean, he was smiling when we got there. _Smiling_.” Sam said _smiling_ as one would perhaps say _dad was knitting_ : that is to say, in complete disbelief. “And then he bought us these stupid fucking head monstrosities and _cokes_. Like what is he playing at? What did he see?” As he spoke, Sam sat up and threw the wig on the floor.

 

Dean unbent from the window ledge, finished salting finally. Also pulled off his stupid wig and let it drop as he set down the bag and walked over to Sam, sat sprawled on his bed like a starfish. “C’mere,” Dean said, standing in between Sam’s legs, reaching out. Sam looked up at Dean with a sad look on his face. Dean just stared back in commiseration then bent his fingers in a “come hither” motion. Sam grimaced but complied, scooting forward until he could lean into Dean’s arms, wrapping his four limbs around Dean, clinging, head buried in Dean’s belly.

 

Dean ran his hands through Sam’s greasy hair. “You, my friend, need a shower.” But Dean didn’t stop the motion.

 

Sam snorted, twisting around Dean to get more comfortable. This was just something they needed sometimes. Contact with each other to prove they were human and not just mobile trash, untethered to anything but time and its continued march onward. Prove they were tethered to each other.

 

“What did he _see_ , Dean?”

 

“I dunno, Sammy. Nothing good.”

 

Sam leaned his weight back, pulling Dean forward so that they collapsed on the bed in a sprawl of limbs, then fell sideways. Sam didn’t let go, arms clung around Dean’s middle, and Dean chuckled nervously.

 

“Hey, Sammy, you gotta let me get us something to eat. You haven’t eaten since twelve and you need, like, ten thousand calories a day the way you keep shooting up.”

 

“Not hungry.”

 

“Sam—”

 

“ _Please_.” Dean stopped at that, knowing how sad Sam had been acting lately. How tonight was the first time he saw him smile in a week. “Just lay with me for a little longer. Need it.” Needed Dean. Dean’s chest felt too small for his heart, felt like he couldn’t contain what this kid clutching his torso meant to him inside his mortal body.

 

Dean shushed Sam and continued to pet his hair, mussing it up even worse.

 

They slept like that, on top of the covers, until eight in the morning, ignorant to the bombshell John Winchester would drop on them in four hours’ time.

**Author's Note:**

> Hoping this is a 5 chapter piece. Will post updates as they are completed. 
> 
> (Also, shoutout to Columbus, Ohio: the greatest city, and my favorite place, in the world! Heyo)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
